


Pizza and Polaroids

by jojo_sain



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies), The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz
Genre: Arcade, Chad's a dick, Competitive Couple, Cute times ahead, Evie's mom af, F/M, First date!, Greaser AU, Harry's such a gentleman, Jafar's Jump Starts, Swearing, Uma just came to have a good time, literally all fluff, some serious stuff but not much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojo_sain/pseuds/jojo_sain
Summary: Harry finally has his first date at the arcade with the girl of his dreams: Uma, the waitress at the local diner. His biggest fear is that he'll somehow screw it up. Let's see just how he fairs...





	Pizza and Polaroids

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my next contribution to the greaser au, Jafar's Jump Starts! If you haven't read the other pieces in this collection, I highly recommend you do so. They are all in chronological order so far.
> 
> This piece takes place following Mal and Evie's date, a part that will be published in the near future. Hope you enjoy this next installment of Jafar's Jump Starts!

“Guys, I’m home!” Evie shouted up the stairs in the back of the garage. She ascended the steps, holding her azure leather jacket over her shoulder. Above the garage was Jay’s house. Though, at this point, Evie and Harry can probably claim residency there as well. They practically live there. Jafar never seemed to mind, and they appreciated him for it. He was like the father Evie never had and the father Harry wish he had.

Once Evie made it up the stairs, she was greeted by the familiar image of Jay, horizontally sprawled out on the couch, watching television with drowsy eyes. Upon further investigation of the room, she noticed there was something missing from the scene. “Where’s Harry?”

“Bathroom, getting ready for his date,” Jay replied without even looking up from the small television playing the usual Saturday cartoon reruns. Evie draped her jacket onto a chair and ambled over to the fridge. After grabbing the half-filled orange juice carton and setting it down on the counter, she went searching through the cabinets for a clean glass. Jay pushed himself off the couch and made his way to the kitchen.

“Speaking of dates,” Jay said with a sly smirk. “How was yours with Mal?”

“It wasn’t a date,” Evie insisted as she rolled her eyes, though a noticeable blush tinted her cheeks. She poured her orange juice to keep her focus on something other than Jay. “It was just lunch.”

“Okay then, how was ‘just lunch?’” Jay asked with air quotes.

“It went well,” Evie smiled wide, looking up from her drink. “Mal’s a pretty cool girl.”

“Will there be more ‘just lunches’ in the future?” Jay wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Evie glared at him and opened her mouth to make a quick retort, but she was cut off by the bathroom door opening. Harry swaggered out, dressed in his usual greaser get-up, and headed to the door. “See ye after,” he bade over his shoulder, swinging his keys around his finger. “I’m off to the arcade.”

“Woah woah woah,” Evie called after him, marching around the kitchen table. Harry stopped and turned around to find Evie right behind him, glaring at him with incredulous eyes. “There is no way you’re leaving now.”

“What?” Harry asked, confused. “Why not?”

“First of all, your date isn’t for another forty-five minutes, and the arcade is only ten minutes away,” Evie stated matter-of-factly. Then, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked Harry up and down with a disapproving expression. “And you are not going looking like that.”

“What’s wrong with how I look?” Harry looked at himself defensively. He was wearing what he always wore. Black skinny jeans, a faded red shirt, and his leather jacket. The standard greaser look when one left the garage. “You’ve never had a problem with this look before.”

“Yeah, when it’s just us three,” Evie corrected, getting ready to divulge him on all his stylistic flaws. Jay watched from the counter, already amused by the show. “You’re going on a real date with a girl you’re actually interested in, which means your pants shouldn’t be tighter than your skin, your eyeliner shouldn’t make you look like a raccoon-panda-hybrid, and I shouldn’t be able to see my reflection in your hair gel.”

Jay burst out laughing from where he stood in the kitchen, and Harry glared at him over Evie’s head. Despite his proverbial wounds, Evie was the fashion expert. He didn’t want to scare Uma off on the first date, so he had to listen to her if he wanted to look presentable. Evie tapped her chin in thought and circled him like a vulture. Once she returned to her spot in front of him, she smirked.

“Go back into the bathroom and clean off your face and hair,” she instructed professionally. “I’ll go grab you some clothes. I’m sure that with what you leave here and what Jay already has, I can throw something together.”

Harry hung his head and sulked off towards the door from which he’d just emerged. Jay gave him a mocking pout, and Harry gladly returned it with his middle finger.

* * *

 

“Okay, all done,” Evie announced victoriously as she returned to the living room. Jay, who had gone back to his couch, muted his cartoons and peered over the cushions. She proudly gestured to the door and beamed, “Introducing Harry Hook in Casual Greaser by Evie Grimhilde.”

Harry stepped out, and Jay had to do a double take because he barely recognized him. His jeans were far lighter in color, and they actually fit loosely enough so as to allow for a full range of motion. He wore a form-fitting, white long-sleeve shirt under a short sleeve plaid top, which was left unbuttoned. Evie fixed his eyeliner so that it was thinner and more refined, and his hair didn’t have a single molding agent in it.

“Dude,” Jay chuckled, standing up and punching Harry in the shoulder. “You look good.”

“I feel weird,” Harry admitted sheepishly, tugging on his plaid top. “I’m not used to so little leather.”

“Which is why I have these,” Evie answered his complaint by producing two leather cuff bracelets from her pockets, each bearing a skull and crossbones. He held out his hands for her, and she snapped them onto his wrists.

“Still feels off,” Harry muttered. “Can I at least wear me gloves instead?”

“Sure, if you want her to remember holding hands with synthetic cowhide,” Evie joked, but she could tell from his discomforted expression that it didn’t levitate his mood. She held his hands in hers and squeezed them encouragingly. “At the end of the day, she probably doesn’t care about what you look like, but it’s polite to appear as though you tried. It’ll make her feel special to see you differently.”

“And if she doesn’t like it,” Jay added in a jest, nudging Harry with his elbow. “I’m not dating anyone.”

“Aw,” Harry stuck out his lower lip mockingly, just as Jay did earlier. “Looks like Carlos will have to find a new ride to work then.”

Jay cut his laughter short and glared daggers at Harry before going back to the couch.

Harry turned to Evie and took a deep breath. “I’m nervous,” he confessed, pausing to chew at his black-polished nails. “What if I say something totally stupid?”

“Stop biting your nails!” Evie chastised before smacking his hand away from his teeth. “I just redid those.”

“Evie, I’m serious,” Harry stressed, running a hand through his messy dark hair. “I can’t remember the last time I went on a real date, and I really don’t want this to go wrong. I need it to be perfect.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but it won’t be perfect,” Evie told him bluntly, and Harry’s eyes widened in panic. Clearly, her words hadn’t done anything to help him, so she grabbed his shoulders, looked him dead in the eye, and rephrased, “What I mean is you are human and you are going to make little mistakes. You’ll trip over a shoelace or use some bizarre Scottish slang that she doesn’t understand–“ Harry rolled his eyes. “–but you’ll laugh about it and move on. Just go with the flow here.”

Harry pressed his lips in a firm line, taking a moment to roll her words over in his brain. He eventually nodded, “Right, got it.”

“And remember,” Evie began wisely, fixing Harry’s collar and pulling his shirt down to shake out any ripples. “Uma doesn’t want to go on a date with the King of Make-Out Mountain. She wants to go on a date with Harry Hook.”

Harry scoffed, hating the sound of a title he was once so proud of, “What’s the difference?”

“Well, both are confident and smooth-talking,” Evie told him, pinching his cheek playfully. “But I’ve known Harry Hook for a long time, and while he may be a pain in the ass sometimes, he has a heart of gold and will do everything in his power to make a lady feel special.”

“Damn straight!” Jay cheered, pumping his fist in the air from his spot on the couch.

“Jay, none of us are straight,” Evie deadpanned.

“Damn gay!” Jay tried again, doing the exact same fist pump.

“Close enough,” Evie settled, giving Harry a final slap on the shoulder. “Now, go get your feisty waitress.”

Harry smirked and walked past her, grabbing his keys, sunglasses, and helmet before making his way down the stairs. However, before he was completely out of view, Evie snapped her fingers and shouted, “Wait!”

“What?” Harry asked, taking a few steps back up the stairs so he could see her.

“Mal told me to tell you that she and Uma take a self-defense every Thursday night,” Evie recited.

“Why would I need to know that?” Harry asked in earnest confusion.

“It means that if you try anything Uma doesn’t like,” Evie said with a terrifyingly sweet smile. “She’ll kick your ass before I have the chance.”

Harry gulped, unsure whether he was more scared of his best friend or his date. Evie gave him a small wave as he slowly descended the stairs. They knew he was totally out of the building when they heard the bell above the shop entrance ring.

“Alright Jay,” Evie said, clapping her hands together. “Time to do our homework!”

Jay groaned in exasperation, dramatically flinging his arms over his head. “Why now?” he whined. “It’s only Saturday. Can’t we do it tomorrow?”

“Okay then,” Evie agreed in a devious tone. “Then we can just talk about your newfound fascination with the STEM building.”

Jay’s eyes went wide, and then he erupted in nervous laughter. “Never mind that, Evie, we have homework to do!”

And then he was off the couch and in his bedroom in a split second. Evie shook her head endearingly at him.

Oh, how she loved her goofy boys.

* * *

 

The ride to the arcade was short, but Harry’s thoughts made it feel like an eternity. He kept running through every possible way that this date could go wrong, and every scenario was his fault. He just hoped that he wouldn’t do anything so insanely stupid that Uma would never even look at him again.

After parking his bike in the arcade lot and locking his helmet onto the side rail, Harry strolled up the sidewalk with his hands shoved in the pockets of his washed-out jeans. A light breeze swept his hair across his forehead and filled his ears with a low whistling. The arcade was also near the beach, so a sea-salty aroma filled his senses.

All around him, people of all ages were meandering about. Little kids were running to the games while their parents followed close behind. Middle schoolers stood in packs, laughing around someone’s phone. Hopeful underclassmen hyped up their friends to send a flirty text to the prettiest girl in their grade. Harry craned his head around, hoping to find his date amidst the mild madness.

Then, he saw her, and everything froze. Suddenly, every doubt in his mind, every negative thought telling him that he had no shot of making it through this date alive, was vanquished, scared away by her effortless beauty. All the way from her teal converse shoes to her golden ear cuff, everything was perfect. The wind blew into her long, teal tank top just enough for the tail to flutter and ripple over her black leggings. She was looking down at her phone, and quite a few of her braids framed her face on either side. If Harry had his camera with him, he’d capture her in an image (with her permission, of course).

Harry approached her slowly, keeping his eyes trained on her even as he weaved through rowdy kids and obstructive teenagers. He was careful not to scuff his boots on the concrete and make his presence known too soon. Eventually, she must’ve seen him out of the corner of her eye because she looked up at him and smiled, but by then, he was right by her side.

“Hey,” she greeted simply as she stuck her phone in her small messenger bag.

“Hiya,” he breathed in reply, though his voice came out at least ten octaves higher than he intended. He smacked his hand over his mouth at the foreign noise, but he relaxed at the sound of Uma’s angelic giggle. He cracked a smile, and his nerves faded.

“C'mon,” she said, grabbing his hand and lacing her fingers with his. “Let’s head inside.”

He fell in step beside her as they walked, making small talk about school and their weekend the whole way. Now, Harry was thankful that Evie had taken his gloves. The feel of her warm hand loosely intertwined with his much bigger one was a far better feeling than the rub of any leather or the hum of a running bike’s grip.

Once inside, the first thing they needed was a whole lot of quarters. Every game in the arcade complex required 25¢ for a single turn, so you couldn’t be caught with only whole bills in your pocket. Harry and Uma waited in line for the coin dispensers, still hand in hand and talking over the loud arcade clamor. When they made it to the machine, they each contributed a ten dollar bill, knowing that eighty rounds of games between the two of them could keep them occupied for a long time.

While the quarters poured out into an extra large soda cup, Harry leaned against the machine to look at Uma. The fluorescent lighting of the arcade made her shirt and shoes pop along with a thin line of teal eyeliner highlighting the tops of her eyes. Harry didn’t have any bright colors on him, but his white shirt seemed to glow purple.

“What’re you looking at?” Uma inquired, trying to fight a small grin.

Harry smirked, “Nothing.” He went back to watching the cascading coins, but then he noticed her looking at him out of the quarter of his eye. “What are you looking at?” He echoed.

“You look different,” she replied, a gleam of wonder in her eyes.

“Yeah, these aren’t me usual threads,” Harry sighed dejectedly with a tug on his white shirt. It wasn’t that he hated the clothes. In fact, he loved being able to breathe without every fiber of his clothes creaking. He just felt younger, less desirable and immature, but that was his fling mentality creeping back into his head. He asked her sheepishly, “Is different good?”

“Yeah, different’s great,” Uma nodded, giving his hand a brief squeeze even though he totally misinterpreted what she meant. She wasn’t talking about his clothes at all. She was observing the way he stood with a relaxed posture, with his shoulders at ease and his jaw unflexed. She had seen him occasionally in the school hallways, and she noticed how he always stood as though every shift or movement needed to be planned. Even when he came to the diner and sat alone, he always seemed alert. It was the burden of having a reputation as talked about as the Jafar’s Jump Starts. But now, even when they were at a venue that was probably filled with a lot of their classmates, he just looked much more comfortable in his own skin. She wondered what changed.

“You look different, too,” Harry said when the coins stopped flowing out of the machine. He hastily added, “Good different, I mean.”

“Thanks.” Harry grabbed their cup of quarters, and the two ambled away while Uma went on, “Though you’re so used to seeing me in my mom’s old diner dresses, so I’m sure anything’s an improvement.”

“I think you’d look beautiful in anything.”

Uma halted at his compliment, feeling a weird, tickling sensation inside her chest. He was looking at her with deep sincerity, no jest meant behind his shameless confession. If he was going to talk like that all night, she’d gradually melt away. The smile that kept wanting to force its way onto her cheeks morphed into a smirk. She was determined to keep some of her walls up no matter how cute his lopsided grin was.

“Alright, Biker Boy,” Uma challenged, taking a step closer to him. She tried to come off as intimidating, but with her flattered tone and their drastic height difference, she was pretty sure she sounded flirtatious instead. She plucked a quarter from the coin cup, which he had held to his chest. “Let’s see if your game is as good as you’re sweet talk.”

She spun on her heel and started to make her way through the arcade with Harry in tow. He was happy to let her lead the way, and so long as she didn’t let go of his hand, he’d have a smitten grin on his face the whole time.

She brought them to the edge of the arcade to a long row of one of the most classic of all arcade games: Skeeball.

“Care for a match?” Uma asked deviously.

“What do ye mean ‘a match?’” Harry questioned. “It’s a solo game.”

“So?” Uma shrugged, an eager gleam in her eye. “Just play in the lane next to me, and then we’ll compare scores at the end.”

“Eh,” Harry said in uncertainty, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m fine watchin’ this round.”

“Why? Afraid you’ll lose?” Uma challenged.

“No, it’s not that,” he assured confidently.

“Don’t wanna chip your nail polish?” Uma pouted. She was really trying to get him to play.

Harry rolled his eyes but shook his head. “No, that’s not it either.”

“Oh, I get it,” Uma drawled in realization, getting right in his face with a daring expression. “You don’t wanna play because you think you’ll beat me.”

“Something like that,” Harry boasted with a cocky smirk. “I wouldn’t want to hurt yer feelings this early in our date.”

“Funny,” Uma mused in mock fascination. She crouched down and pushed the quarter into the machine. There was a chorus of beeps and whistles preceding the release of eight white skeeballs.

“It’s not a joke, love,” Harry replied suavely, reaching for one of the skeeballs. Uma side-stepped out of the way to give him the floor, and he turned his sights on the targeted pockets. After one deep breath, Harry lined up his aim, pulled his arm back, and rolled the ball up the lane. Accomplishment surged inside him when the ball jumped into the 50 pocket. He looked to Uma to see her mildly impressed expression. “I’m pretty good,” he told her.

“Well, step aside, ‘pretty good,’” Uma shot back, grabbing her own skeeball and lining up with the target. Harry watched with keen interest and was rather surprised when, despite her tough talk, she missed the target completely and sunk the ball into the default 10 pocket. Uma tilted her head with a disappointed sigh.

“Want some help?” Harry offered graciously.

“By all means,” Uma said dramatically. “Show me how it’s done.”

He picked up another ball and narrated his actions. “Ye just gotta keep your wrist and arm straight, keep your eyes on the target, keep a fluid motion as you roll the ball and–“ Harry rolled again, this time only getting the ball in the 40 pocket but still managing to impress his audience of one “–that’s pretty much all there is to it.”

“Alright, let’s see if I got the ‘Harry Hook Technique’ down,” Uma chuckled as she picked up the next ball. She mimicked Harry’s stance, taking a little more time with her turn, and rolled just as he did. The ball it the rim of the 50 pocket before bouncing away and dropping back down to the 10 pocket.

“Takes some practice,” Harry noted.

“Well, Mr. Arcade Expert,” Uma joked, picking up the fifth skeeball. She flicked her head and suggested, “Why don’t you come over here and walk me through it.”

Harry hesitated at first, losing himself in the way she bit her lip or the inquiring look in her eye. He stepped beside her and gently took her wrist into his right hand. He stood behind her to make their movement more natural as he slowly guided her hand back and then forth to aim the shot. After the third pull-back, Uma released the ball, and together they scored a 30.

“Just like that,” Harry whispered, his face directly next to her ear.

“Could you do that again?” she asked with an innocent grin. Harry nodded and handed her the next ball. He was so focused on leading her through the next roll that he didn’t notice her reach back to take his free hand with her own and bring it up to her waist. They scored a 40.

“One more?” inquired she who stood so close to him. Harry agreed and went through the exact same motions, this time noticing the way she leaned back just slightly into his chest. They scored another 40.

“You might as well help me with the last one,” Uma stated factually, and Harry was more than willing to oblige. He found that Uma wasn’t even paying attention to this last roll. He could feel her eyes on him through the whole turn. His heart fluttered in his chest. He went for the 50 pocket but choked and missed, and the ball sunk for ten points.

With a total of 230 points, the machine began to spew out a line of 23 tickets. Harry still had his arm around Uma, and his hand that was holding her wrist slowly slid into her hand.

“I’m starting to think ye pretended to be bad just so I’d help you like this,” Harry guessed flirtatiously. Uma put a hand to her chest in mock-hurt and looked up at him.

“I would never!” she gasped, playfully pushing him away. Harry snickered as he stumbled back, thoroughly enjoying every second of this date so far. She grabbed their coin cup and pulled out two quarters. “Now will you play against me?” she asked.

“You’re still on that?”

“Please?”

Harry tried to disagree, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no to her small pout and pleading eyes. He sighed through his nose and stubbornly conceded, “Fine.”

“Yes!” Uma cheered, holding out a quarter to him. Harry reached for it, but she pulled it back at the last second. Her voice turned mischievous. “Wanna make it interesting?”

“What do ye have in mind?” asked Harry, intrigued.

“The loser…” Uma trailed off, looking up in thought over what the consequence of their skeeball showdown would be. She snapped her fingers when it came to her. “Pays for the milkshake we’re splitting after dinner.”

“We’re splitting a milkshake?” Harry wondered aloud in a jesting tone. “At least let me meet your parents first.”

“Shut up, I only offered ‘cause I know you like shakes,” Uma laughed. Harry thought about her suggestion but eventually shook his head.

“No deal,” he said simply.

“Why not?”

“Because even when I do win,” Harry declared smugly, puffing his chest out. “I’m still payin’. No questions about it.”

“Funny and a gentleman,” Uma scoffed with an amused expression. “Fine, winner decides the flavor.”

Harry snorted, “Hope you like chocolate.”

Uma rolled her eyes and finally gave him the quarter. Both pushed their coins into their respective machines, and then they were off. The game was on.

Harry remained focused on his lane the whole time. He managed to score in the 100 pocket two out of the four times he tried for it, so he had 220 points by the time he was halfway through. One 50, one 40, and two 20’s later, Harry snagged a grand total of 350 points. Not a bad round, if he does say so himself.

He looked at Uma’s score, and his mouth fell agape.

620 points.

“What the…” Harry muttered under his breath, his gaze slowly moving to the absolutely beaming girl next to him. She was trying to contain her enjoyment at his astonished reaction. Harry connected the dots. Rolling poorly, asking for advice, distracting him with proximity…

“You hustled me!” Harry concluded, a knowing smirk betraying his hurt tone.

“You make it sound so bad,” Uma whined, and Harry tried to look annoyed but a giant smile broke through his features when she reached out and took his hands. “I just wanted you to play with me, and this seemed to work.”

“Damn, you’re a bit of trouble, aren’t ya,” Harry laughed as he reached down to pick up his tickets. Uma’s tickets were still rolling out of her machine. She shrugged, taking his compliment as it was and giving him a small nod. Harry smirked, “I like it.”

“Then I guess you wouldn’t turn down another match?” Uma asked. “I’ll even let you pick the game.”

“You’re on!”

And so they went, playing every game they could make a competition out of–many more than once–and collecting all the tickets in a big bucket Uma splurged a whole three dollars on (Harry insisted, but he’s paying for dinner, Uma ain’t letting him pay for everything). Harry quickly realized that Uma was an arcade regular. She knew every path and corner like the back of her hand, and the low light never phased her.

Another thing Harry realized–and this was a symptom of being an arcade regular–was that Uma is an expert at every. Single. Game.

Harry didn’t win a game against her. Not one. He visited the arcade occasionally, but Uma was clearly a seasoned arcade-goer. She kicked his ass in everything, from virtual boxing to duck shooting. It was odd to say, but every time she crushed him in a game, he only grew more fond of her in real life.

He didn’t make winning any less impossible by his own nature, of course. They’d be in the middle of their sport when Harry would steal a glance at Uma. Everything about her was focused on the game. Her eyes were glued to the screen, and her brows were furrowed in ultimate concentration. She chewed on her lip mid smirk every time she scored another point or bonus or level in their game, and she never took her hands off the controller. If her braids fell into her face, she quickly whisked them away with a swift nod of her head. Harry couldn’t get enough of the image.

Then, when she got a higher score or killed his avatar, she would never gloat. She would perk up on her toes and fold her hands behind her back, but Harry could tell from the restrained smile and the brightness in her eyes that she wanted to cheer every single time. She never did, out of politeness, but Harry still found her contained pride severely adorable.

“I won,” she’d mention after a long pause. Harry would sigh and run a hand through his hair–something he found was much more satisfying to do when it wasn’t totally covered in gel. Honestly, Harry would never be that hurt by a loss because any hit to his man pride was quickly healed by her glowing aura.

“That you did,” he’d smile back before picking up their gradually depleting coin cup. “Where to next?”

And as such went their time. Their ticket count increased, and their coin count decreased. Eventually, they were totally out of coins.

“How about that dinner now?” Uma suggested, out of breath from their very heated dance battle.

“After you,” Harry said with dramatic flair, holding one arm out to gesture to the arcade restaurant in the back. Instead of walking ahead of him, Uma grabbed his other hand and started walking with him beside her.

* * *

 

Sometime later, our couple found themselves at the milkshake bar, running a tab of pizza slices until their appetite was almost totally squashed. As agreed, Uma picked the milkshake flavor and ordered a blueberry shake for them to split. While they waited for the drink, they chatted about anything that came to mind.

“So, I’m going to take a guess and say that you’ve been here before,” Harry joked, knowing full well that she’s definitely an arcade-addict.

“You’d guess right,” Uma chuckled, tossing an excess pizza crust onto her plate. “This is probably my favorite place in town.”

“Is that why you chose this place for our date?” Harry asked before taking a big bite out of his last pizza slice. What he didn’t know was his monstrous bite left a smear of pizza sauce on the side of his face. Uma noticed with an amused smirk.

“Well yeah, I wanted to make sure I was someplace I knew I’d be comfortable,” she answered before picking up a napkin and brushing the corner on the tip of her tongue. Harry froze when she reached over and rubbed the corner of his mouth with her napkin. The action itself was small, but it made Harry’s heart beat just a little faster. Uma folded up her napkin and continued, “Especially since I’m on a date with a guy who’s rumored to be a werewolf.”

Harry snorted, “Wow those rumors get more and more wild every day.”

(Harry and his friends had accumulated all sorts of dark theories about them. Werewolves, vampires, Satan worshipers, etc.)

They shared a brief laugh before their milkshake finally arrived. Harry took a sip of the new flavor and was surprised to find it actually tasted good–still not better than chocolate, but he’ll settle. Uma hesitated, and her smile faltered slightly. This talk about rumors reminded her of something she’d been meaning to bring up.

“Can I ask you something?” Uma inquired as Harry took another sip.

“Sure.”

“Why me?”

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. “What do ye mean?”

“It’s just that,” Uma began, already cringing a little at the thought. “Your reputation precedes you–“

“Uh oh,” Harry muttered, looking down at his hands. Of course, she’d bring it up. She had a right to be curious. “How bad is it?”

“Well,” Uma sighed earnestly, twisting her ring on her finger. “They call you Harry Hook-Up.”

“Right…” Harry nodded his head, still not looking up. “ _That_ reputation.”

“But you seem like a lot of fun,” Uma added quickly, already wishing she left it alone, but the worry was killing her. She needed to know if she was wasting her time in a waking dream or if he was actually being genuine. “And you haven’t… _tried_ anything yet, so I’m wondering what makes me different.”

Harry paused, knowing he had to choose his words carefully lest Uma stands up and leaves that second. When he finally set his sights back on her expectant yet patient expression, he spoke as truly as he could. “I’ve never wanted a relationship before,” he admitted in full honesty. “I dunno, maybe I’m afraid of ‘em.”

“What scares you?” she asked, tilting her head.

“It’s a long story,” he answered dismissively, preferring not to spend any breath on a tragic backstory she really shouldn’t hear yet. “Anyway, I never went out looking for anything long term, and I made sure the people who I…ye know, ‘hooked up’ with know that.”

He stopped his explanation there, and Uma noted, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Which was?”

“What makes me different?”

Harry inhaled a deep breath and took another moment to search inside himself. Uma idly sipped at their milkshake while he collected his thoughts. He twiddled his polished thumbs on the countertop until he eventually found the words. “I really like being around you,” he began, hoping that what he said would make sense. “I’ve never wanted to know someone in the way that I want to know you. Maybe it’s changed me a bit. Not only do I want to know you, but I want you to know me.”

Uma’s brows raised in interest, and Harry felt the warmth of hope grow inside him. “The real me,” he added with a smirk. “Not Harry Hook-Up or one of the Garage Trio.”

“Not even the werewolf?” Uma joked with fake disappointment, and Harry felt the weight of his worry fly off his shoulders.

“Maybe next full moon,” Harry winked.

They both paused to drink their milkshake, their eyes occasionally flickering upwards to look at just how close they were. They spent the rest of their time at the bar talking about themselves and really getting to know each other, just like Harry wanted. 

Uma talked about her love of swimming but the tragedy that was her inability to join the school swim team due to a time commitment she couldn’t make. Harry gushed about his love of photography and how he collected every camera he ever had.

Uma talked about her friendship with Mal, and Harry talked about his friendship with Evie and Jay.

They just talked. It was almost odd how comfortable they were with one another on only their first date, but neither one questioned it. They just relished in it.

* * *

 

After finishing up their dinner and paying for it–with Harry’s volunteered funds–the couple meandered their way over to the prize counter with their giant bucket of tickets. The prize counter was a small section of the arcade cut off from the rest of the madness with small prizes all along the walls and on racks. The bigger gifts were hung up behind the counter. Instead of waiting in line, one just stood at the counter until a tender came to help them.

“See anything ye like?” Harry asked when he and Uma found a tight spot on the counter.

“Nah, I’m good,” Uma dismissed. “You can pick first.”

“No, I insist. Most of the tickets are yours anyway.”

“Harry,” Uma groaned, turning away from the ticket counter to look up at his indifferent expression. He quirked a brow in question, waiting patiently for her to go on. That whole night, he’d made sure she was always taken care of before he worried about himself, letting her go first for all the games, letting her finish the milkshake, and now this. It’s not that she didn’t like it, but she hated feeling like he was putting more effort into their date than she was, even though it wasn’t a contest. “Can you please pick something?” Uma almost pleaded, sliding their slip for 2,285 tickets toward him.

Harry opened his mouth to object, but Uma placed her hand on top of one of his and brushed her thumb over his knuckles. That paired with her steadfast eyes staring straight into his made it hard for him to say no.

“Alright,” he conceded, and Uma sighed gratefully. Harry waved over the counter tender, a wiry man with a cleanly swirled mustache, and asked him, “What do you have that’s fifteen tickets or less?”

“Oh my goodness!” Uma exclaimed incredulously, facing away from Harry so he couldn’t see her undeniable grin. However, a small giggle revealed she wasn't actually cross with him.

“What?” he smiled down at the back of her head.

“We have over two thousand tickets,” she reminded him before gesturing to the plethora of giant prizes hanging on the wall. “You can pick something bigger!”

“Maybe I don’t want something bigger,” Harry countered playfully, earning a roll of Uma’s eyes. The counter tender pulled a couple baskets out from under the glass display case and set them down in front of Harry before leaving him to review his options. Harry picked up the first thing he saw. “Maybe I just want a deluxe pack of Twizzlers.”

“You’re impossible.”

“But you’re laughing, so I must be doing something right.”

“Shut up!”

The pair shared another laugh, Uma nudging her shoulder against his upper arm so that they created their own private space between them and the counter. Harry’s hand automatically went to her waist, and she didn’t make any move to suggest it was uncomfortable, so he left it there. Uma helped him search through the buckets of cheap trinkets and oversized snacks when an obnoxiously familiar voice cut their fun short.

“My my, what do we have here?”

Harry stopped rummaging through the toys and stood up straight. He looked at the wall in front of him, set his jaw, and turned around to find exactly what he expected: Chad Charming and the other two members of his rich-kid posse, Ben and Doug. Like Harry and his friends, these three rode bikes in their own exclusive little pack, but they didn’t work in a garage or spend their free time in a leaky loft. All of them had loaded parents and lush lifestyles. Chad, their self-elected leader, firmly believed that wealth should equal status–in high school, college, career, and in life–so he was always so bothered by the fact that Jafar’s Jump Starts were more often the topic of conversation around school than his little group, The Kings.

To make a long story short, Chad hated Harry and his friends, so he made a point to be a huge dick whenever he could.

He definitely looked the part of prep school snob with his some-hundred dollar sunglasses, a pastel yellow polo, khakis, and a light blue sweater tied over his shoulders. Doug’s look was similar, except in shades of green and tan. Also, he was actually wearing his sweater. Ben, who stood further off to the side, looking rather uninterested in Chad’s antics, wore a blue button-down under his school letterman jacket. He didn’t boost Chad’s ego, but he didn’t make an effort to stop Chad from bugging Harry either.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or has the King of Make-Out Mountain changed his venue?” Chad dramatically asked his buddies. Ben didn’t respond, but Doug snickered at the remark. Harry always thought Doug had a really punchable face, but his fist had never itched so much to break his jaw. “What’re you gonna call yourself now, huh?” Chad questioned Harry, an arrogant air about him. “Arcade All-Star?”

“Good one, Chad!” Doug applauded his friend with a slap on the back. Chad’s upper lip curled in a sneer, satisfied at Harry’s clearly annoyed expression.

“Get lost, Chad,” Harry said coolly, leaning back against the counter. “If yer havin’ trouble with yer bike, like always, I’m afraid I’m a bit busy right now.”

“Oh, I can see that,” Chad boasted, pulling off his sunglasses and shoving one hand into his pocket. He took a couple steps forward until he was right in front of Uma, the ladder of which had now also turned to see who was giving Harry a hard time. Chad looked Uma up and down, and she rolled her eyes at his unmannered behavior. Chad gestured loosely between them with mock curiosity. “So what is this? Like, fling number 47?”

Now it was Harry’s turn to step forward, putting himself right in Chad’s spotless face. His breathing was steadily growing more rapid, and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Uma watched him with weary eyes but remained where she stood. The spectacle was starting to draw a small crowd made up of curious teenagers. Harry chewed on his bottom lip, staring Chad down for a few long seconds before whispering menacingly, “I told ye to get lost.”

“Oh, I forgot,” Chad chuckled, tapping his head with his palm in an exaggerated motion. “I probably shouldn’t ask you questions with numbers since you failed math three years in a row.”

Whatever self-control Harry was holding onto shattered, and he lurched at Chad. However, he didn’t get a single touch on the guy because a much smaller hand on his shoulder pulled him back against the counter. Harry’s wide, angry eyes were set on Chad–who had flinched back half a step–but he still listened to the whispers against his ear.

“Harry, calm down,” Uma advised sternly, emphasizing every syllable so her words penetrated through his rage-clouded mind. “He’s egging you on, trying to get a reaction out of you. If you engage, you’re giving him what he wants.”

“What’s the matter, Hook?” Chad jeered, clearly having no intention of letting up on his taunts. “Afraid to fight without Mama Blue here too?”

A low growl rumbled deep in Harry’s throat. He was far more protective of his friends than he was of himself, so Chad mentioning Evie only made his blood boil even more. His hands braced against the glass counter, pressing against it so hard his knuckles turned white. This did little to keep him grounded. What really kept him from giving into his rash, violent urges was the hand that still firmly gripped his shoulder along with the sound of her voice.

“Harry,” her tone came as a warning, one only meant for the good of his well-being. He finally chanced a look at her, and he was paralyzed by the pure fury in her eyes. “Chill.”

Unable to deny her unspoken reasoning any longer, Harry nodded his head and turned back to the counter. With his back now to Chad, Harry leaned his elbows onto the glass surface and stared at his thumbs, ashamed over almost losing his cool in front of his date. Uma ran her hand soothingly over his forearm, her concern still evident in her expression as was how thankful she was that he backed down from a needless fight. Chad, on the other hand, still wanted to have his fun.

“Wow, you got a smart one this time,” Chad said, giving Uma an impressed nod. She returned it with an annoyed glare. “Though I can’t imagine how smart she is if she chooses to hang out with you.”

Harry’s head snapped up, Chad smirked, and Uma narrowed her eyes at Chad. Still, her self-assigned priority was keeping Harry from maiming anyone, so she moved closer to him, once again closing off the rest of the world from their space.

Uma found she had to talk above a whisper to speak over Harry’s aggressive breathing. “Don’t react,” she told him.

“But he said–“

“I don’t care what he said,” Uma cut him off, her brows knit together in a slight show of distress. “He’s gonna take jabs at you, me, and anyone close to you because he thinks you have nobody to hold you back, but you take one swing at him, and his friends will call security to lock your ass in jail. You understand me?”

Knowing she was right, Harry kept his eyes forward and didn’t move a single rigid muscle. She coaxed his tight fist open, just enough so she could slide her fingers into his hand and give him something to hold onto. He squeezed her hand back and sighed all of his frustration out through his nose. Chad may think he has nobody to hold him back, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He gave Uma a weak smile to show her he was calm, and she returned it. Their moment of bliss was short-lived.

“Way to suck-up to your girlfriend, Hook,” Chad quipped, smacking his palm into the back of Harry’s head. Harry pitched forward, and a low hum fell over the observing crowd. Chad seemed satisfied with the damage done and started walking back to his friends. Harry was about ready to snap, to whip around and give Chad what he was asking for, but Uma beat him to it.

“At least he has one, dick-head!”

The crowd became even more vocal at Uma’s retort. Chad spun around, clearly flustered by the negative attention. Harry couldn’t help but let a cat-like grin spread onto his face, and he had a number of reasons to be so giddy. Part of it was how quickly Uma was able to shut Chad up and do it with a straight face. Part of it was how much more enthusiastic their growing audience was about Uma than they were about Chad. Even Ben cracked a small smile despite his friend’s proverbial takedown.

Part of it was Uma admitting to being his girlfriend (but he wouldn’t bring that up until later).

Chad glared at Uma, a vein popping in his neck as he grew just as angry as Harry was mere seconds ago. Suddenly, a flash of recognition happened across the blond boy's face after taking a good look at Uma.

“Hey guys,” Chad said to his buddies with a thoughtful frown. He dramatically sniffed the air. Uma swore under her breath and turned her back to Chad, already knowing where he was going. Once again referring to his friends, Chad asked, “You guys smell that?”

“Here we go,” Uma muttered bitterly, busying herself with the prize baskets.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, concerned with her quick withdrawal.

“It’s nothing. Just ignore him.”

Ben stepped forward and put a hand on Chad’s shoulder. “Chad, don’t,” he advised.

“I do believe,” Chad went on, shrugging off Ben’s hand. “It smells a little shrimpy in here.”

Harry didn’t know the story, but he’d heard enough around school to know that Uma had a less-than-pleasant nickname from when they were all kids. He scowled at Chad for being so immature, but Uma still kept him where he stood.

“Let it go,” she said, still preoccupied with the cheap plastic trinkets. Despite her neutral disposition, Harry heard the sliver of hurt in her voice. “He just wants to make a scene.”

Harry hated how helpless he felt. What kind of man was he if he couldn’t even defend those he cared about? He wished Chad would just go away and let them finish their date in peace, but alas, Chad was still having his fun.

“My, how the once mighty have fallen,” Chad gibed, walking back over to the pair he was tantalizing. “Harry Hook is going out with Shrimpy.”

Chad seemed to think the idea was hilarious and broke into a laughing fit. Doug and a few other onlookers joined in. Harry was at his capacity for how much taunting he could take, but Uma had her hand on his before he even took a step forward. She wasn’t holding him back this time. She was putting something in his hand.

“Hold my ring for me,” she instructed simply, and Harry obliged without question. Before he could even ask what she was doing, Uma left his side and walked up to Chad. When the pastel-clad boy settled down from his laughter, Uma gave him a forced smile. “Actually,” she said sweetly, holding out her hand for him to shake. “My name is Uma.”

Chad’s face screwed up in confusion at her unexpected reaction. Thinking nothing of it, Chad looked her in the eye and took her hand.

Big mistake.

An electric shock immediately sparked the skin of his hand. Chad’s first instinct was to recoil his arm, but Uma had an iron grip from years of holding trays. The electric pulse repeated against his hand and eventually spread up his arm, making his whole limb spaz out. His smug expression was immediately replaced by panic while Uma’s innocent one fell into menace. The longer she held onto his hand, the farther the tingling sensation went, eventually making his feet go numb and forcing him to his knees.

Did Uma let go then? Nope! She waited until Chad flopped onto his back and starting twitching about like a fish out of water before releasing his hand, and even after she had, Chad was still shivering about.

“Don’t forget it,” Uma spat down at him, shaking her wrist out.

Everyone went dead silent. It all happened so quickly that no one registered what had happened until Chad was already down for the count. Those who had started recording the exchange with their phones were now going back and checking their footage to see if it was real. Sure enough, their eyes did not deceive them. It did appear as though Uma sucked the life out of Chad through a handshake.

Harry just stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, while Uma brought Chad to his knees. Words couldn’t even describe what he was feeling. Proud? Terrified? In awe? Aroused? All of the above?

As the bystanders gradually dispersed, Uma went back to Harry with a content expression. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, nor could he wipe the awe-struck look off his face. He was still trying to wrap his head around the whole thing when Uma pulled a small device off of her palm.

“Electric joy buzzer,” she said, holding the silver circle between her forefinger and thumb before placing it back on the counter beside the other arcade prizes. Harry held her ring out to her without a word, and Uma slid it back onto her finger. “I’m gonna be honest. I was not expecting it to be that effective, but if this tiny thing packs that big a punch for only fifteen tickets, then hell! I’ll take three!”

Harry’s eyes darted between the joy buzzer–not much bigger than a quarter–and their barely conscious classmate. Doug had hooked his arms under Chad’s shoulders and pulled him off to the side. Meanwhile, Uma didn’t have so much as a scratch on her.

“So you found that in…” Harry trailed off, pointing to the prize buckets.

“Yep,” Uma grinned proudly.

“And then you just…” Harry gestured loosely to Chad on the ground.

“Yep.”

The corners of Harry’s mouth turned upward in a fond smile. “That was–“

“Hey Uma,” another voice interjected, leaving Harry’s praise unfinished. He and Uma turned to find that, after all the madness, Ben had approached them.

Harry straightened out to his full height, his chest puffed out for intimidation, but Uma rested her hand against his arm in a calming manner. “Give it a rest, Harry,” she chuckled endearingly, still flattered by Harry wanting to be so chivalrous. “It’s just Ben. He’s a friend.”

“And one of Chad’s devotees?” Harry smirked at Ben’s eye roll, satisfied at getting even the slightest bit of discomfort out of him after Chad’s little stunt.

“I came to apologize,” Ben stated, looking at Uma and choosing to ignore Harry’s quip. “I didn’t think Chad would go that far.”

“It’s fine,” Uma sighed, glancing to where Doug was patting Chad’s face to wake him. "It's just a silly nickname, anyway." Harry reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The Shrimpy thing must’ve bothered her more than she was letting on because she gripped his hand for dear life. “Why do you hang out with him anyway?” Uma asked Ben.

“We’ve been friends since we were kids,” Ben answered simply, shrugging with his hands in the pockets of his letterman jacket. “He’s not too bad if you get to know him.”

“I don’t wanna know him,” Harry grumbled.

“Well, playing on the same football team leaves little room for the alternative,” Ben chuckled wisely, hoping to lighten the mood. Harry only continued to glare at him, so Ben cleared his throat and changed the topic, still looking at Uma. “So, you’re dating a Jump Start now?”

Harry furrowed his brow at the name. He, Evie, and Jay never had a say in being called Jafar’s Jump Starts or Jafar’s Garage Trio. It just happened, just like the rumors that they’re vampires or werewolves or running a magical cult. They rolled with it sometimes. Other times, it made Harry feel weird over having an unintended label.

“Yeah well, they’re not so bad once you get to know ‘em,” Uma repeated Ben’s own words to him. Ben nodded and turned his attention to Harry, a stern expression on his face.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you not to hurt her, right?” Ben checked, pointing at Uma. “Because you just saw her K.O. Chad, and she will make you regret doing her wrong.”

“Don’t worry about it, Beasty Boy,” Harry replied, using Ben’s athletic alias since he used Harry’s biker handle. He took a second to look down at his gorgeous date. “I wouldn’t dream of hurting her.”

Ben looked between the two and saw something that sacked his quarterback heart: a boy looking at his girl the way every girl ought to be looked at, like she was the most precious thing in the world. It was how he himself looked at his own girlfriend, Audrey.

“Okay then, I’m gonna go see if Chad’s alive and leave you guys to your date,” Ben said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. He nodded respectfully to Uma before holding out his hand for Harry to shake. Harry eyed it before smirking and reaching for his hand, but Ben snapped his back before they could shake. “You’re not wearing a buzzer too, are you?”

Harry laughed and showed Ben his empty hand. “I got nothin’, mate.”

Then, Harry and Ben shook hands, and the ladder left to tend to his friend.

“You’re friends with one of The Kings?” Harry asked in utter bafflement once Ben was out of earshot.

“Ben’s friends with everybody,” Uma said like it was common knowledge. The two turned back to the counter, and wanted to check Harry's mental state after being provoked to such an extent “You feeling okay after all that?” she asked, searching through the prize baskets again for more joy buzzers.

“Yeah, I’m feelin’ pretty damn good,” Harry laughed, looking over his shoulder to see Ben and Doug carrying Chad out. He couldn’t stop smiling anymore. “I’ve never seen someone snuff Chad like that. You really are one of a kind.”

“Stop saying things like that,” she said, failing to hide a how flustered she was in her voice.

“Things like what?”

“Have you picked a damn prize yet?” Uma quickly changed the topic, but Harry loved the way her face lit up when he complimented her so much that he paused to admire her for a brief moment. Then, he picked up his Twizzlers again.

“I just want these,” he restated before dropping it beside her arsenal of electric joy buzzers. Then, he walked behind her and eased his hands on her shoulders, careful to be as gentle as possible as he guided her into facing the prizes. She let him go about as he pleased, feeling comforted by his presence so close behind her.

“Now, I really insist that you pick one of the big ones, eh,” Harry whispered, his breath tickling the side of her neck. Uma’s eyes scanned the shelves of prizes, but she could barely focus with Harry’s rough hands tenderly caressing the tops of her arms and his brogue still humming in her ear. “The giant teddy bear, the water bazooka, the steampunk costume…” he trailed off, leaving the rest for Uma to explore on her own. “Anything you want can be yours.”

“As long as it’s within our ticket range,” she pointed out.

“Details, details,” he mumbled dismissively.

“You are so over the top.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I’ll let you know.”

All while they were going back and forth, Uma narrowed her eyes at something on the wall. _That_ was it. She turned her head to Harry and found him very close but not uncomfortably so. With finality, she told him, “I know what I want.”

Harry called over the counter tender again, keeping his place behind Uma but letting her do the talking. Once the mustached man was in front of her, she pointed at the wall and asked, “How much for the camera?”

Harry’s eyes flicked up to where Uma was pointing and narrowed at a blunt, grey object hanging on the wall. He couldn’t believe his eyes. It was a Polaroid 600! He’d wanted one ever since he was a kid, but his father always said they were useless garbage and no son of his would waste his money on a camera that would die in two weeks. Sure, there were modern Polaroid cameras that worked a little better, but Harry loved the idea of the vintage camera, thick and hollow in his steady hands as he snapped a picture and immediately set it off to the side to develop.

Did Uma really want that?

“Eight thousand tickets,” said the counter tender, and Harry felt a pitfall in his stomach. Partly because the girl of his dreams wouldn’t get the camera of his dreams. Also, this man just made a liar out of Harry after he told Uma that she could have whatever she wanted. Thanks a lot, asshole!

“Gimme a sec,” Uma chirped before pulling her messenger bag onto the counter and undoing the leather buckle which held it shut. Harry watched curiously over her shoulder as she pulled out and unraveled crumple sheets of paper. They were all ticket receipts from her past visits to the arcade.

“Three-hundred something…sixteen-hundred something…eight-hundred something… two-thousand something…” she read off the numbers as she flattened the receipts, and even though Harry was better at math than he used to be, he couldn’t keep up with how many total tickets were now on the table. When she finally un-balled all of her receipts, she pushed them towards the tender and asked, “Could you count these up for me?”

The man nodded and pulled out a bulky calculator. He started with their ticket count from today and then added Uma’s extras to the total. He’d read a slip, type it into the calculator, and then push the used receipt off to the side. While he did this, Harry’s curiosity got the better of him. “Where’d you get all these?”

“I won ‘em,” Uma said simply, but Harry was still looking at her like she had two heads. She chuckled at his confusion. “I told you, I love coming here, though I’m not a big fan of spending the tickets on cheap plastic prizes. I brought all my ticket slips in case I needed them.”

The counter tender finished counting up the ticket slips and turned the calculator to the awaiting couple. Harry’s jaw dropped. Uma tilted her head with a pout.

“I thought it’d be more,” Uma complained.

“Uma, that’s over ten thousand tickets!”

“Well, excuse me for being an optimist and wanting twelve thousand,” Uma feigned offense, pressing a hand to her chest. She gathered Harry’s Twizzlers and her joy buzzers into a pile and told the man, “I’ll take all this and the camera.”

The man deducted the cost from her total on the calculator and asked, “Would you like six packs of film for the camera? Only two hundred more tickets.”

“Sure, why not,” Uma shrugged.

The tender nodded and printed off her new ticket slip before going to the prize rack to get her camera. Uma grabbed the slip, crumpled it up, and shoved it into her bag. Harry watched the camera come down from the shelf, and he practically leaped for joy knowing that he’d at least know someone with that camera.

“I had no idea you were into cameras,” Harry said in amazement, feeling about ready to get down on one knee and pop the question right that second because, wow, she was _perfect_.

“I’m not,” Uma said coolly, and Harry frowned in confusion. “But you are.”

Harry stared at Uma in disbelief. The tender brought over the camera and film and set them down in front of Uma before taking the prize baskets away and moving to some other customer. Uma met Harry’s astonished look with confidence before pushing the clunky camera towards him.

“No, absolutely not,” Harry objected, though his heart broke when he turned down the camera.

“Why not?” Uma asked.

“Because they were your tickets,” Harry reasoned, but Uma’s eyeroll showed she didn’t care. “I can’t let you just give it to me.”

“Are you gonna stop me?” she challenged.

“Well, no, but…” Harry bit his lip, feeling a stab of guilt under her expectant glare. It just didn’t feel right. Right there was the camera he’d wanted his whole life, and he was getting it for nothing.

“How about we make a deal?” Uma suggested, sensing Harry’s hesitation to take the camera. He listened to her as she explained with a smile, “You hold onto the camera for me, and I’ll give you the film to take the most amazing pictures you can. Then, when all the film is gone, you show them to me as payment.”

“Doesn’t seem fair,” Harry muttered dejectedly.

“Value is based in the eye of the beholder,” Uma replied holding out her hand. “Deal?”

Harry looked at her hand skeptically. “I’m never shaking your hand again,” he stated with a fearful gleam in his eye.

Uma sighed but pulled her fingers back, leaving only her pinkie offered to him. Harry smirked and raised his hand, wrapping his pinkie around hers and giving it a small tug.

“Deal,” he replied.

* * *

 

“Can you sit on that bench over there for a sec,” Harry asked Uma after they left the arcade building. The sun was drifting beneath the horizon, and the breeze gave way to a slight chill to all whom it permeated. Uma gave him a skeptic look, but then she noticed how he was grasping his new camera in his deft hands. She nodded and set down their bags of prizes before going over to the bench as he asked.

“Any particular pose?” she offered as she settled into the otherwise empty bench. It was facing the sunset, but the light wasn’t horribly unpleasant on her eyes. Harry took a second to glance up at her.

“Um,” he thought for a moment analyzing the scene with his trained eye. The remaining light from the sunset hit her perfectly, making her skin glow, and the shadow cast behind her was angled just right so as not to be the main focus of the image but also not to go unnoticed. The sidewalk was relatively vacant, with only a few stragglers still hanging around in the background. Finding a moment where no one was moving wouldn’t be a problem. He pulled open the camera and smirked, “No, you’re perfect like that.”

Uma chuckled and held her casual position while Harry riddled with the few settings on the ancient camera. Then, he held the camera up to his face, and Uma held her breath, waiting for the click, but it never came.

“Actually,” Harry said sheepishly. “Would ye mind straightening your left leg and tucking your right leg in a tad.”

Uma laughed again, amused as the photographer in him fought for dominance against his overachieving gentleman persona. She did as told, and he went to take the picture, but again, no picture was taken.

“Do ye mind if I…” he inquired, embarrassed as he set his camera down on the bench. He made gestures to suggest that he wanted to manipulate her pose since he couldn’t find the right words to say it. Lucky for him, she caught the message loud and clear, and she nodded her head with a small smile.

Harry eyed her with detailed scrutiny, imagining the picture before it was even taken. He moved her hands so they were loosely folded in her lap. He pushed her shoulders against the back of the bench. He was most careful when holding her hair, taking great pains to make sure he didn’t muck up the braids or hurt her by accident as he pushed most of them over the shoulder farthest from his viewing point. He left just a few to frame her face on the other side.

Uma watched him as he went about, finding her own enjoyment in the way he chewed his bottom lip in thought or the way he squinted his blue eyes at even the most seemingly insignificant details. The attention was enough to make her face warm, and not from the direct sunlight.

“Okay, now I’m ready,” Harry announced excitedly, picking his camera back up and standing only a few feet away from Uma. The camera was looking down at Uma, and she gazed ahead of her at the glistening sun over the water. There was a long pause of nothing but blissful, ambient silence.

“The sun wishes it could look as utterly radiant as you do,” Harry said in his low brogue.

Uma couldn’t hold a straight face. She just had to smile wide and giggle like some love-struck teenager in a classic movie. Why does he have to be so goddamn cheesy?

_ Click! _

Uma looked up from her brief fit to see a small square sliding out from the mouth of the vintage camera. Harry carefully pulled it out and tucked it safely in his breast pocket.

Uma glared daggers at him, though a smile was still plastered to her face. “You slick bastard!” she snorted.

“How hurtful!” Harry feigned a wounded gasp. “I was just tryin’ to make ye smile.”

“Well, you don’t need to try very hard, I assure you,” Uma replied before she even knew what was coming out of her mouth. It was the truth. Even without his flirty lines, Uma felt an unfamiliar sense of happiness whenever she was around him. It was different. A good different.

“So,” Uma broke the silence that fell over them, standing up to be in front of him. “Can I see the picture?”

“Uh, later,” he told her awkwardly. “It needs to develop away from the sun. It shouldn’t take long, but I don’t wanna risk it. I’ll text it to you later.”

“Okay,” Uma said while Harry closed up his camera and picked up their bags of toys. Over Harry’s shoulder, Uma spotted something that looked fun for both of them. She grabbed his hand and started running back towards the arcade. Harry struggled to keep up.

“Hurry up, Picture Boy,” Uma teased. “I have an idea.”

She dragged him to a small compartment just outside the arcade entrance, and Harry could tell based on the film designs that it was a photo booth. Uma tugged the curtain open and pulled Harry inside. Then, she drew the cloth closed and sat down on the seat in front of the camera next to the blue-eyed boy. Harry set down their bags and his camera before reaching for his wallet.

“No way,” Uma scoffed, pulling her bag around her and quickly rummaging through it for two dollars. Harry looked up at her curiously as she declared, “I am not letting you pay for this, too.”

“Why not?” Harry asked.

“Because you literally paid for all of the food,” Uma argued.

“So?” Harry questioned, though he was trying to stifle a laugh. He thought she was adorable when flustered over the tiniest things. “You practically paid for my camera.”

“That’s different!”

“How so?”

“Just put your wallet away,” Uma groaned, finally finding two dollars in her bag and feeding them into the photo booth. The screen in front of them came to life, showing a reflection of the two of them as the camera saw them. Uma tapped the option for two copies and a ten-second countdown. The timer began, and they looked straight ahead.

“We got five pictures,” Harry stated, his arm naturally sliding around her waist as she leaned into him. “What do ye wanna do?”

“I dunno,” Uma shrugged, her head falling on his shoulder as she put up a peace sign. “Start with a cute one, though.”

“Well, if you’re in it–“

“Don’t even say it, Hook.”

The back-and-forth worked in their favor and ended up giving their picture a light and amusing atmosphere. Harry let Uma decide the mood and pose for the rest of the pictures.

They did a match of Rock Paper Scissors with genuine reactions (and now they have a photographic example of how shocked Uma looks when she loses, _stupid rock_ crushing her scissors!).

They did a silly photo, consisting of Uma with her trademark peace-sign again and her tongue sticking out while Harry quirked an eyebrow and pursed his lips.

The fourth photo was a candid of them laughing at how ridiculous they looked in the previous photo.

“Last picture,” Harry sighed, glancing at Uma out of the corner of his eye while still facing the camera as it counted down from three. “What do ye want for this one?”

His answer came in the form of her lips pressed against his cheek. Harry was caught completely off guard, and it showed on his face as the camera snapped the last picture. His mouth hung agape, but the corners of his mouth were curled up in an open smile. The moment was brief, but it meant so much to Harry.

Yes, he’s kissed and been kissed before–on the lips, neck, chest, etc–but all those times meant nothing. The only purpose they served was for physical pleasure, but Harry never felt like he did in that instant before.

And sure, Evie’s also kissed his cheek before, when she’s being particularly motherly. Jay’s done it too, when he’s being particularly dickish. Those were vastly different. The small surge of electricity Harry felt from this soft contact was on a whole other level from what he’s experienced before.

But it was over all too soon.

“Let’s go see how they turned out,” Uma suggested, standing up and leaving the booth with a stunned boy inside. Harry watched her fondly for a few seconds longer before following her out of the booth with their things. Outside, Uma had already pulled the strips of photos out and was examining them with a satisfied smile. She held one up for Harry to see. Harry cracked a smirk.

“They’re perfect,” Harry said, his eyes switching from the pictures to the girl standing in front of him. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a buzz cut him off.

“Oh, that’s me,” Uma said. Harry took the picture strip from her so that she could go digging through her bag for her phone. She pulled the small device in a teal case out. She scanned her messages briefly before letting out an awkward sigh, “My mom’s at the drugstore at the end of the block. She wants me to meet her there. I better get going.”

“Okay, I can give you a ride there,” Harry offered, now feeling downtrodden after hearing their date was coming to an end.

“Nah, that’s fine,” Uma assured, her eyes still trained on her phone as she sent a quick reply to her mom. “I’ll be okay walking.

“Alright,” Harry mumbled, shoving his hands into his back pockets. Uma put her phone back into her bag and looked up at him. Neither really wanted to say goodbye. Even though it was just their first date, they had enjoyed each other’s company more than they expected. Harry cleared his throat and handed her the bag holding her joy buzzers. “See ya in school?” he said with uncertain inflection.

“You bet,” she agreed, taking the bag graciously. After a moment of awkward silence where neither one really knew what to say, Uma moved closer and wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. Harry was slow to respond, but he eventually enclosed her into his arms as well, keeping her against him for a few more seconds before she settled down from her toes. Her hands hung onto his shoulders while he kept his hold on her waist. Uma eventually broke their silence. “Thanks, Harry.”

“For what?” he asked cluelessly.

“For the most perfect first date I could ask for,” she answered calmly. She started to move out of his arms, and Harry realized it was time to part. Her hands slid down his arms into his palms. She squeezed his hands one last time before finally releasing them and turning away. “See ya around, Hook.”

Harry watched her go for a long time. He watched her hair swing back and forth in pace with her steps. He watched one hand grip the strap of her messenger bag while the other swayed to and fro with her bag of arcade goodies. After she’d crossed a street, and a bus cut off his view, Harry looked away, though he still carried a very smitten expression.

He casually made his way to the parking lot, his head on a swivel until he eventually found his bike. He secured his bag in a containment box on the back of his bike before he straddled his motorcycle and pulled out his phone. He left his notifications off out of common courtesy, but now he could see that Evie and Jay were trying to scream at him for updates throughout the entire night. He didn’t have to go into details just yet, but he gave them one little message to keep them at bay until he returned to the garage.

_ It was perfect. _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this one-shot! Let me know what you thought in the comments below, or if you have any ideas for what you'd like to see in this au. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you all have a wonderful day! -JoJo, who took FOREVER to write this one-shot, WHAT THE HECK?!


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